


The Gift

by greygerbil



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Isu-Induced Mpreg, M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-03-20 02:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18983497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Alexios is preparing himself for the death of his lover Stentor until Herodotos finds out that Stentor's recent mysterious illness may not be one at all.





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).



“You seem unhappy.”

Alexios glanced up from his dust-covered feet at Herodotos, who stood framed by the red evening sun sinking behind the rooftops of Sparta.

“I take it Stentor did not like the news?” Herodotos pushed, when Alexios gave him only a shrug.

“I can’t blame him for that,” Alexios answered.

Though in truth, he couldn’t say what Stentor was thinking right now. It was not Alexios who could take credit for the fact that he had even been able to give Stentor the outlandish news, though, but the man standing before him now.

Alexios’ lover had been fighting a strange illness for months: his bones and muscles ached for little reason, he was constantly nauseous, and eventually there had been a taut swell to his stomach that had disquieted Alexios especially for the fact that Stentor threw up so much of what he ate that it was impossible he was gaining weight. Stentor, after a visit to a physician, had eventually been the one to say what they had both been thinking: that it was likely a growth of some sort, the kind not even Asklepios could do a thing about because it threaded through the flesh and organs like choking poison ivy, and that his time was coming to an end.

“I had hoped to die on the battlefield,” he’d added, but that was all he’d spoken for regret. He had never been one to show sadness or fear, but Alexios had seen it in his eyes. That night, he’d laid in the darkness holding Stentor close, unsure if either of them had gotten any sleep by the time they rose.

So when Stentor had returned to Sparta after his latest assignment, it was knowing he might not leave again. Alexios had come with him, of course, put the Adrestia at anchor and told his crew that he would be a while. Nikolaos, Alexios’ mother, and Kassandra were all busy with their own devices outside the city, sparing him and Stentor the need to inform them for now.

Back in Sparta, Stentor had done his duties still, visiting his _syssitia_ , looking after young men in the _agoge_ , all while hiding his illness by adjusting the straps of his armour to account for the extra size and draping a long cape over his shoulders that he closed in the front. He did not complain about Alexios following him like a shadow, perhaps understanding Alexios’ need to be close, or feeling one himself, though he’d never say.

While Alexios was almost in mourning already, however, Herodotos had used the time at anchor to inspect a small artefact of the same strange make of the weapons Alexios and his sister used, which Alexios had found in the house of a Cultist. It was a round, golden thing, no bigger than a peach, and Alexios had carried it with him for a while before handing it to Herodotos along with the encoded text the Cultist had written on a small scroll. This morning, Herodotos had informed him that he had figured out its meaning: the artefact could apparently change the human body to allow a man to receive a child.

It was then Alexios had remembered that one night, some months ago, Stentor had played with the golden ball after Alexios had taken him, fascinated with the way its thin, straight lines glowed.

He’d run to tell Stentor the moment Herodotos was done speaking, heart pounding like a drum. Stentor had listened in complete silence as Alexios stumbled over his words to get out what he’d been told, then turned away from Alexios. Before Stentor had had time to collect himself, one of his subordinates had come to fetch him, and Alexios had had a feeling he’d been eager to take the chance to escape. When Stentor had failed to return to him, he’d scoured the city for him, but so far he’d not been lucky.

“It would be natural to be surprised,” Herodotos said gently into Alexios’ thoughts.

“I think ‘shocked’ is more accurate.”

“That wouldn’t seem unreasonable to me, either,” Herodotos added with a slim smile.

Alexios snorted, lifting his elbows off his knees and getting to his feet.

“No. But I need to find him before – I don’t even know. What does someone do after getting a message like that?”

-

Alexios checked once more all the places he expected Stentor might escape to, which were familiar and perhaps comforting to him: their home, the building where his _syssitia_ met for supper, the training grounds, a spot in a grove west of the city that Stentor had once showed him, where he liked to practice on his own. He was nowhere to be found.

When Alexios made his way back towards Sparta, fraught with worry, he passed by a small shrine to Artemis Orthia. He remembered from his own childhood that an especially warlike cult of the goddess was celebrated in Sparta. His parents had taken him to the temple to see the ritualistic flogging of young men on the altar, their skin splitting until enough blood had flowed to satisfy the great huntress. The memory made him slow his steps, looking up at the stone likeness of Artemis Orthia inside the small building with its open doorway, painted in bright colours, spreading bird’s wings he’d not seen on an Artemis statue anywhere outside Sparta.

It was in her shadow that he noticed Stentor, standing still, head bowed, one had wrapped tightly around the other wrist behind his back, knuckles white.

“I’ve been looking for you all day,” Alexios exclaimed, his own voice intolerably loud to him against the quiet of the windless evening.

Stentor straightened and turned around.

“I wanted time to think,” he said. Maybe there was a note of apology there. He didn’t look surprised to see Alexios, either. The fact that he’d probably known Alexios was frantically searching for him annoyed Alexios, but he realised that much must have been on Stentor’s mind, too; and in truth, he was simply happy to have found him.

“I get that,” Alexios answered. “Still, it’d have been good to know just where you are.”

“No one is going to steal me out of Sparta,” Stentor muttered. “I’m fine. Well – as much as I can be. I suppose I am still going to die.”

“But I told you that you’re not sick-”

“Then how is this child going to leave me? They’ll have to cut it out, no? And not too many women survive that, if I am correct, even with good physicians around,” Stentor interrupted him.

Alexios stopped himself from saying that if Stentor had listened to him for two minutes, he may have been able to calm him down already. Still, Stentor had prepared himself for a slow, excruciating death in sickbed for weeks now, who could blame him for frayed nerves and a short temper? Alexios stepped into the twilight of the temple, which was illuminated only by a flame flaring in the stone basin at Artemis Orthia’s feet.

“The paper Herodotos translated said that the artefact can change your body for a time, make you – different. Like me and my sister are different, in a way. We know it’s true it can affect you, otherwise, you couldn’t be growing a child within you at all. Whatever gods or creatures put these objects on earth, they devised their magic so that the carrier will heal much faster after the child is removed, as long as he has the artefact.” He took hold of Stentor’s arm. “And if it’s physicians you’re worried about, I know one of the best.”

Stentor listened to him quietly, finally giving him a slow nod. Alexios could see the relief in the way his arms slackened, the grip on his own wrist growing weaker.

“That is good,” he said slowly.

“Yes.” Alexios shook his head as he breathed out. “To be honest, I’m surprised you believed me you were pregnant at all. I thought you’d think I’m mad.”

Stentor scoffed.

“I have seen you and your sister fall heights that should have killed the strongest men and walk away brushing dust off. You heal from broken bones and torn flesh in a matter of days – seconds, sometimes, when you’re on the battlefield. Even I can’t deny you are surely gods-touched, and the rules of human life end were the divine starts. Still… I am glad I may not have to become a sacrifice.”

“You should know I would never allow that,” Alexios said, grabbing Stentor by the back of the head to make him look him in the eyes.

Stentor kissed him. The warmth of his lips on Alexios’ finally untied the knot in his chest.

“I had another hint,” Stentor admitted, after a moment. “I have felt something move in me for the last couple of weeks. I figured the illness had finally taken hold of my head, but… the thought did come to me then that were I a woman, I certainly would not have needed anyone to tell me what was wrong with me. Of course, I didn’t believe it could be true.”

“It’s moving already?”

This day had been such a maelstrom that Alexios had barely been able to think of anything but Stentor, whom he had been so worried about for months now. However, it was true Stentor was carrying _their child_ , which in only a few more months would, gods willing, be out in the world.

“A great deal.” Stentor glanced up at Artemis Orthia. “So when you told me, I figured... I should die with a spear in hand, that’s what I was raised for. But it’s no shame to go to Hades while bringing a babe into the world, either. Artemis Orthia can kill them before they leave the womb, though, so I came here to ask the goddess to leave my child in peace.”

“You’re taking this very well.”

“I figured I would die, but I had accepted death weeks ago. Dying for a child is better than dying to an illness. At least there’d be some sense to it.” He hesitated. “And considering my – preferences, I never thought I would have a child of my own blood. Not that it would have bothered me to adopt one, that is how I came to my _pater_ , after all. Still, perhaps it is a gift from the gods.”

Unlike Alexios, Stentor had no interest at all in women, which was why he’d never married, as he’d told him once. It hadn’t surprised Alexios. After all, Stentor was in everything else the model Spartan, and that usually included fathering a host of brave future soldiers and strong, sportive girls. There had to have been a good reason he hadn’t done it.

“And the gods go through me for that?” Alexios asked, with a quirk to his lips, finally feeling free enough to jest with him a little. “It’s rare I get a compliment like that from you.”

Stentor rolled his eyes at Alexios before he stepped away and pulled a short dagger from his hip. With its razor-sharp blade, he cut across his left wrist.

“What are you doing?” Alexios asked.

“Artemis Orthia wants blood,” Stentor said, matter-of-factly, as he let the red liquid drip into the fire. “And I want her good will.”

Alexios watched as the blood was swallowed by the flames before he held out his arm to Stentor.

“This is a Spartan goddess and if I know anything about you Spartans, we should give as much blood as possible.”

Now Stentor smiled. It occurred to Alexios how little he had done so lately, but he doubted he had been a more cheerful presence himself. As Stentor drew a shallow cut into his arm, he felt as if the anger and sadness of the last months drained away with the welling blood. He put his good arm around Stentor’s shoulders, their armour clicking together as he pulled him against his side.

-

With their family gone, they had the house to themselves, and Alexios was thankful for the chance to find some peace after this day. Stentor went to take off his armour, as he’d usually done as fast as he could every evening since they had returned, for the breastplate was ill-fitting and uncomfortable now, even with the straps let out all the way. Alexios hadn’t avoided looking at him or touching him, but obviously it had been impossible to think his expanded stomach sightly, convinced it was the sign of a deadly illness. Now, he found himself staring as the red tunic rode up when Stentor moved his arms to rid himself of the armour pieces.

His gaze did not go unnoticed.

“It’s strange to imagine it’s a child.”

“It is.” Alexios closed in on him and Stentor allowed him to put his hands on his stomach. “You won’t be able to hide this for much longer. You could leave the city with me, couldn’t you?”

He knew Spartans were not supposed to go on their own merry ways; the state had to allow them to leave. However, the Wolf’s family obviously had some silent privileges. No one questioned Alexios or Kassandra or even Myrrine when they came and went as they pleased.

“Who says I’m going with you?” Stentor asked, but the playful tone was too obvious in his challenge.

Alexios grinned, moving the hands on Stentor’s stomach to his sides and gripped him firmly.

“I doubt you could stop me from kidnapping you while you’re in this state.”

Stentor barked a laugh.

“And I doubt you could touch a hair on my head while I’m in this state. I know you, Alexios. You’re soft.” 

“Not always, or you wouldn’t have this problem now.”

Stentor groaned and kissed him, possibly to shut him up, which Alexios supposed was fair enough.

“I will ask the kings to grant me a pilgrimage to a greater temple of Asklepios to cure my illness. I am owed a few favours still, and obviously I am of no use as a soldier now, so I doubt they will keep me,” Stentor said, leaning back.

“That’ll work. We can take the Adrestia and I’ll bring you to Hippocrates – the physician I spoke of. Trust me, if anyone can safely deliver a babe born by a man, it’s him.”

Stentor nodded his head, his gaze still resting on Alexios’ face.

“Did you ever want children?” he asked, after a moment’s pause.

“I spent nine years reassembling my family,” Alexios said, raising a brow at him.

“And none making one of your own. You’re long old enough, too.”

“I had the Cult at my heels, then,” Alexios said. “But yes, I did want it. Still, it seems my bloodline brings trouble, which kept me careful.”

“It also brings a lot of advantages,” Stentor said, making a fist with his right hand. “Nothing in life is free. You only need a partner strong enough to take on your enemies if need be.”

“Strong and willing. It’s not a burden everyone might want to carry,” Alexios corrected.

“Well, I’m already carrying a burden now,” Stentor muttered. “I am not afraid.”

Alexios opened his mouth, perhaps to say something too sweet, overwhelmed by Stentor’s hidden agreement, but that was when he felt something moving against his palm. For a moment, he was at a loss for words, before a smile spread over his face, big and idiotic, he was sure. There was his child, safe in Stentor’s strong body.

“I don’t think the babe liked being called a burden.”

Stentor glanced down at himself.

“Burden is friendly. I still can hardly believe it’s more than a fevered delusion.”

Gently, Alexios rubbed his thumb along the side of Stentor’s stomach, against Stentor’s skin and the living thing underneath, and nodded his head. They’d get used to it, though, he was sure. To being fathers.

-

“Are you going to accompany us all the way to the coast?”

Herodotos looked over at Stentor with an inquisitive smile. They were riding the road south out of Sparta on a pleasantly cool morning three days later, when Stentor had acquired his permission to leave the city for the Sanctuary of Asklepios in Argolis. The animals were going at a slow trot, as the three of them were waiting for Barnabas to rein in his mare and catch up. He’d always preferred the sea to horses, he’d told Alexios once. At least the sea didn’t usually bite. Although that one time when he’d sailed east of Naxos…

“Onto the ship,” Stentor said, looking Herodotos up and down. “I heard I have you to thank for solving this mystery.”

“I only translated the message. Alexios is the one who found the artefact.”

“You’re a polemarch, are you not?” Barnabas asked, still slightly behind them. “Are you looking to reunite with your soldiers somewhere?”

“He’s looking to give birth to my child in peace,” Alexios answered.

As he’d told Stentor before, Barnabas had been by his side for near ten years now. He trusted him well enough to tell him of the babe – even if he feared the story would become a seaman’s yarn full of gods and mythical creatues one of these days, but then it would be too hard to believe to be any danger, and Barnabas was smart enough not to name names in his tales if he’d been told not to.

Barnabas stared at Alexios in silence.

“The gods have blessed us,” Stentor said sternly, staring ahead.

“I’ll explain later,” Herodotos added, quietly.

“You truly have the strangest family of anyone I have ever known, Alexios!” Barnabas shouted and laughed.

Alexios grinned, even as he wondered whether he believed as Stentor did. Perhaps, in the end, it didn’t matter. He had his lover and child by his side and if the gods weren’t willing, well, he’d had the very Oracle of Delphi against him before and he’d survived that. He had no doubt that together, Stentor and him would be strong enough to weather any oncoming storm.


End file.
